It was on the 7th September that Jeanne and her immediate followers reached the village of La Chapelle，where they encamped for the night.
The next day was the day of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin，a great festival of the Church.It could scarcely be a matter of choice on the part of so devout a Catholic as Jeanne to take this day of all others，when every church bell was tinkling forth a summons to the faithful，for the day of assault.In all probability she was not now acting on her own impulse but on that of the other generals and nobles.Had she refused，might it not have been alleged against her that after all her impatience it was she who was the cause of delay？
The forces with Jeanne were not very large，a great proportion of the army remaining with Charles no one seems to know where，either at St.
Denis or at some intermediate spot，possibly to form a reserve force which could be brought up when wanted.The best informed historian only knows that Charles was not with the active force.But Alen？on was at the head of the troops，along with many other names well known to us，La Hire，and young Guy de Laval，and Xantrailles，all mighty men of valour and the devoted friends of Jeanne.There is a something，a mist，an incertitude in the beginning of the assault which was unlike the previous achievements of Jeanne，a certain want of precaution or knowledge of the difficulties which does not reflect honour upon the generals with her.Absolutely new to warfare as she was before Orleans she had ridden out at once on her arrival there to inspect the fortifications of the besiegers.But probably the continual skirmishing of which we are told made this impossible here，so that，though the Maid studied the situation of the town in order to choose the best point for attack，it was only when already engaged that the army discovered a double ditch round the walls，the inner one of which was full of water.By sheer impetuosity the French took the gate of St.Honoréand its "boulevard"or tower，driving its defenders back into the city：but their further progress was arrested by that discovery.It was on this occasion that Jeanne is supposed to have seized from a Burgundian in the mêlée，a sword，of which she boasted afterwards that it was a good sword capable of good blows，though we have no certain record that in all her battles she ever gave one blow，or shed blood at all.
It would seem to have been only after the taking of this gate that the discovery was made as to the two deep ditches，one dry，the other filled with water.Jeanne，whose place had always been with her standard at the immediate foot of the wall，from whence to direct and cheer on her soldiers，pressed forward to this point of peril，descending into the first fosse，and climbing up again on the second，the /dos d'ane/，which separated them，where she stood in the midst of a rain of arrows，fully exposed to all the enraged crowd of archers and gunners on the ramparts above，testing with her lance the depth of the water.We seem in the story to see her all alone or with her standard-bearer only by her side making this investigation；but that of course is only a pictorial suggestion，though it might for a moment be the fact.She remained there，however，from two in the afternoon till night，when she was forced away.The struggle must have raged around while she stood on the dark edge of the ditch probing the muddy water to see where it could best be crossed，shouting directions to her men in that voice /assez femme/，which penetrated the noise of battle，and summoning the active and desperate enemy overhead.
"/Renty！Renty！/"she cried as she had done at Orleans--"/surrender to the King of France！/"We hear nothing now of the white armour；it must have been dimmed and worn by much fighting，and the banner torn and glorious with the chances of the war；but it still waved over her head，and she still stood fast，on the ridge between the two ditches，shouting her summons，cheering the men，a spot of light still，amid all the steely glimmering of the mail-coats and the dark downpour of that iron rain.
Half a hundred war cries rending the air，shrieks from the walls of "Witch，Devil，Ribaude，"and names still more insulting to her purity，could not silence that treble shout，the most wonderful，surely，that ever ran through such an infernal clamour，so prodigious，the chronicler says，that it was a marvel to hear it./De par Dieu，Rendez vous，rendez vous，au roy de France/.If as we believe she never struck a blow，the aspect of that wonderful figure becomes more extraordinary still.While the boldest of her companions struggled across to fling themselves and what beams and ladders they could drag with them against the wall，she stood without even such shelter as close proximity to it might have given，cheering them on，exposed to every shot.
